


I Can't Drown My Demons (You Are Loved)

by Silent-Wordsmith (Shatteredsand)



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Murder, Suicidal Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2676758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatteredsand/pseuds/Silent-Wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can you hear the silence? It comes in waves. Can you see the dark? I close my eyes and let it bury me. Can you fix the broken? My skin is smothering me. Can you feel, can you feel my heart? I’m not okay, and it’s not alright. Won’t you take my hand and bring me home again? Help me find a way to breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Drown My Demons (You Are Loved)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't...I don't know.

Today, you are small.

Tomorrow, you will be larger than life. Fill the room with blustering ego, saturate the air with swaggering apathy. Tomorrow, your hands will be steady.

Today, you are small. Today, you are trembling, shaking, falling apart. Shredded to ribbons. Draped over a cross and bleeding stolen blood over the holy.

Today, the nightmares—the _memories_ —are stronger than you have ever been. Than you will ever be. Today, you breathe fire and smoke, taste flesh and blood and bone. Today, the darkness is a horror, not a comfort, and you cannot make the night feel like home.

Today, your hands shake.

Tiny tremors that betray you to your weaknesses. That broadcast your desolate vulnerability. That reveal you as something fragile and broken.

You are glittering glass. Gleaming in the moonlight. Beautiful and cold and sharp enough to cut.

You love, you love, you love.

You are choking on dirt, blinded by explosions, deafened by the new world you were never meant to live to see.

You are loved, you are loved, you are loved.

You are screaming, crying, so desperately frantic, to deaf ears and a Cheshire cat grin and a loving embrace that _strangles_.

You are helpless.

And painfully, painfully, still alive.

You are flying. You are impact. Broken bones and ruptured insides. You are coughing blood, bones peeking out from beneath the skin. Fragile, broken thing, but still too strong to find this is your end.

You are a stake over your heart. You are wood splintering your grasp. You are a coward, unable to do the only thing you were ever good at and _kill_.

You are your own death, rough hands and cruel eyes, and you cannot breathe for the weight of him on top of you.

You are loved, you are loved, you are loved.

You are three hundred years of blood drenched history, of remorseless murder, of your mother’s dazzling machinations. You are stone, and the only flesh you have ever loved is that between your teeth.

You are the gasping last words, the agonized death throes, the shuddering final breath. The futures snuffed out in the dead of the night. Hundreds, thousands, millions of dead.

You are the hungry teeth at their throats, the bloodstained hands around their necks. The violent, vicious brutality of their messy ends.

You are murmurs of affections, declarations of devotion. You are the darling girl, the perfect tool, the daughter always wanted. You are, in this moment, perfect. And you are loved, you are loved, you are loved.

You are the shining steel in the heart of that love.

You are bereft.

You are a child, playing a game you still haven’t yet learned the rules to. You are an error, a misstep. The mistaken move that brings the whole board tumbling down. You are loved, you are loved, you are _lost_. A wretched dead thing, playing a role that never belonged to you.

You love, you love, you love.

You are the fox in the henhouse, the snake in the garden. Poison waits at the tip of your tongue, flies through the air and infects with every word you shouldn’t have spoken.

You are seventy years of silence, of drowning, of madness.

You are not recovered.

You are loved, you are loved, you are loved.

Killer in the crowd, predator pretending to be prey. You are a wolf amongst sheep, and today, today the wool does not cover your eyes.

You are the gentle touches, the reverence of heresy, the holy bliss of blasphemy. You are murder disguised as kindness, as love. You are hers, and you think that she’s yours. You love, you love, you love.

You are not loved.

You are a lie. A deception crafted to save. You are burning. Consumed. You are still alive. You want to die.

You are a kiss in the smoke of a battlefield, a soft touch to open wounds. Benediction in this murder, this death. This blood on your hands holy now. You are victorious. You are a sister. You are a daughter. You are not human, but you are these things. You are fratricide. You are matricide. You are murder and death and the end of all things.

You are loved, you are loved, you are _loved_.

You are grieving.

You are loved, you love, you are loved, you love, you are loved.

You do not know the meaning of the words.

 


End file.
